Bad Fauxmance
by NXYZ Community
Summary: Three times Atobe didn't fall in love, and the one time he did. AtobeOC in the end, we promise. /Written by meccanico, thesaddisttensaifuji, and The Jabberer for the NXYZ Community's Forum Event/
1. Perfection

_Written for the NXYZ Community'sForum Anniversary Event_

_Writers: meccanico, thesaddisttensaifuji, **The Jabberer** (b__olded author took part in writing this particular chapter.)_

_Prompt: Sunglasses (which will show up a few chapters in, we swear)_

_Disclaimer: We don't own Prince of Tennis._

* * *

><p>The first time he falls in love, Atobe doesn't really fall in love.<p>

It is more of a fascination that is doomed from the start, because the moment he falls in love, he knows that they will never work. It is not necessarily taboo, but it is impossible in every way imaginable.

But what they have is undeniably beautiful, however brief it is.

He is six years old, as is his lover. They are too young to fall in love, but they have known each other for their entire lives, and something suddenly _clicks_ when they are there, standing in the foyer of Atobe's mansion.

(Looking back, Atobe will forever be grateful towards his first love for giving him an idea of what love is supposed to feel like.)

His first love is striking, with moonshine eyes and stardust skin.

He wants to know what stardust feels like.

He steps forward, and leans his face in for a kiss. He doesn't quite close his eyes right away, so he sees the point where their breaths kiss and meet.

Stardust feels like moonstone. It is cold and smooth.

Atobe supposes that the cold is a sign of the inevitable, a warning of some sort, but the feel of their lips together is so wonderfully _delicious_, even if his lips are getting cold. The sensation is quite similar to that of eating ice cream, because his little mind cannot think of anything else to compare it to.

He pulls back, and his lips are numb. They are too cold, too numb, to say, _"I love you."_

(Looking back, Atobe will be glad that he wasn't able to utter the words. What he had wasn't love. It was admiration. Appreciation. Infatuation. Anything but love.)

And then he is sad, because the expression on his love's face is telling him that this secret relationship, this doomed meeting of hearts, has to come to an end before it spirals out of control.

Atobe looks back. He hears his mother's heels clicking against the marble floor in his direction, but there are seconds left for him to steal one more kiss, something to remember this moment by.

He dives in and catches his love's lips. It is a chaste and light, but it is heartbreakingly so, and–

"_Keigo! Stop kissing the mirror!"_


	2. Admittance

**Bad Fauxmance**

_Written for the NXYZ Community's Forum Anniversary Event_

_Writers: meccanico, __**thesaddisttensaifuji**__,__The Jabberer__(bolded author took part in writing this particular chapter.)_

_Prompt: Sunglasses (which will show up a few chapters in, we swear)_

_Disclaimer: We don't own Prince of Tennis._

O o o

The second time Atobe falls in love, he gets dumped.

O o o

Tachibana An is a challenge for him, and Atobe Keigo never backs down from a challenge.

He never forgets the date she promised him on the street tennis courts, when they were both still in middle school.

At first, he thinks that she is nothing but another challenge he has to conquer. He soon realizes that they are not playing a tennis match, but a game of chess. The objective is to capture her rather than defeat her in any way.

He likes her.

He knows that women follow him like they are his pawns, but she is different. She resists his charms and stands up against him. She has a headstrong personality, just like that of a queen.

He has been trying to win her over for some time now, but An has always been elusive, unlike the majority of the female species, who swoon at the sight of him. She is one tough girl, and yet she even has a bunch of freaks pretending to be her knight in shining armor.

He knows he doesn't really have a nice opening. It will take him more moves than usual to capture her heart, but it doesn't really matter.

Atobe Keigo is the king. What the king wants, the king gets.

And that explains why he's in Fudomine right now.

O o o

An sluggishly walks towards the school gates after a rigorous tennis practice. She can't wait for her brother any longer. Her muscles are aching, and she just wants to go home and have a nice warm bath.

She hears murmurs, and finally notices the crowd clogging the school gates.

She is too tired to bother checking what in the world is happening, and carefully makes her way through the mass of warm bodies.

"Excuse me. Ouch! Sorry–"

So maybe this is getting more and more annoying.

An pushes herself a bit more forcefully further into the murmuring mob.

She escapes the horde of students, but she is greeted by a sight she doesn't want to see at all at the moment.

Standing there is Atobe Keigo, in all his glory, casually leaning against the door of his limo.

Great. Just great. An's not really in the best of moods to deal with the resident narcissist of Hyotei.

_I gotta make this quick._

Atobe pushes himself from the car door and straightens himself.

"You're late, An-chan."

"Pardon?"

"I said you're late."

"Sorry, Atobe, but I don't remember having an appointment with you _at all_. I can't believe _you_ of all people would forget about scheduling a meeting before going to meet someone. And besides, I'm all booked for today. Ask my secretary. Now, if you'll excuse me–"

"Being hasty, aren't we, An-chan?"

"Are you deaf? I said I'm busy."

"Then when will you be free?"

"I told you to ask my secretary, not me. Do I have to repeat everything I just said? Geez. You need a hearing aid, Atobe."

An adjusts the strap of her tennis bag, and starts walking away.

"So who's this secretary?" He calls out, deciding to play along.

"That's for you to find out, Atobe-_san_," An replies mockingly without even turning to face him, and continues walking.

Atobe smirks.

_She makes this all the more interesting._

O o o

If An were thinking that she has finally gotten rid of him, then she is wrong. He never gives up easily.

Atobe's limo pulls over a few paces past her, and one of the windows opens.

"Let me just take you home, An-chan."

An stops walking and faces him. She better end this _now._

"Look, Atobe. I don't know why the hell you're doing this, but if you're just bored, then go pester someone else and leave me alone."

An walks away.

Atobe gets off his limo, and jogs to catch up to her.

"What the–what do you think you're doing?" An glares at him.

"Walking you home," Atobe replies as he takes her tennis bag from her shoulders.

An doesn't let him.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not a weakling."

"I never said you were, An-chan."

An stops walking and finally raises her voice.

"Just go away, will you?"

"An–"

"Or else I'm going to shout that you're a rapist. Or a mugger. Take your pick.

Atobe knows better than to take his chances further, and finally retires for the day.

"Very well, An-chan."

O o o

For the entire week, the latest gossip has been circulating around Fudomine in an incredible speed: a handsome guy in a limo stirs up a ruckus of onlookers by the gate, waiting for the tennis captain's little sister. She arrives, but sends him off with her witty retorts. _Poor him_.

An rolls her eyes whenever she hears the rumors, knowing that the entire female population of Fudomine is probably thinking the same thing: she's such an idiot to resist a great catch like him.

_Great catch? Oh, please._ _Me? Dating that egoistic bastard? Give me a break._ _And besides…_

An leaves that thought hanging.

She doesn't know why.

O o o

For the second time that week, Atobe is at Fudomine.

He looks through the car window, and is surprised to see a familiar yellow and black jersey, coupled with a mass of seaweed hair.

_Kirihara Akaya._

Atobe wonders what business he has in Fudomine, thinking that it is the last place – apart from Seigaku, of course – to find him after he injured Tachibana Kippei during the Kanto Tournament two years ago.

Knowing the younger boy, Atobe supposes that he must have missed his stop and got off in Tokyo. He must have wandered around, and accidentally found Fudomine. And since he's not moving from where he is, he must have been debating whether the team is worth-challenging or not.

Yes, that must be it. He can't possibly be there because of An, can he?

His rational mind tells him not to worry, as it is improbable, if not impossible, to happen. There are only two knights for a queen, and those are Kamio and Momoshiro, who don't even stand a chance against him.

But still, all his suspicions linger.

O o o

It is never easy to change, Kirihara thinks as he stands outside the gates of Fudomine.

He has nothing to do at the moment, and that makes his mind wander around.

He may not have aimed for Echizen Ryoma's knee during the senbatsu training camp, but that was a friendly match. When Rikkai's victory is at stake and he's pushed to his limits, he might not be able to contain the devil in him.

Such a time came during his third year in middle school, when he was the captain of the team.

Rikkai and Fudomine met in the quarterfinals of the Kanto Tournament that year. He was facing Kamio at singles two, and all had been well until the speed ace turned the tables and pushed him into a pinch.

His eyes were starting to become bloodshot. He tried to control himself, but the mask of the devil flashed in his mind. Before he knew it, he had already fired a shot towards Kamio's body.

He dropped his racket as he saw Kamio barely dodge the ball. He turned to An, who was watching the match, and saw that questioning look in her eyes.

He bowed his head and walked slowly towards the umpire.

He knew his senpai-tachi would be disappointed in him, but he had no choice. He vowed to change.

He forfeited.

An pulled him aside after the results were announced and slapped him.

"I have forgiven you for hurting my brother, but I could never forgive you for giving up in the sport you love just because you can't overcome that stupid devil mode of yours!"

He was surprised to know that she was concerned about him. He initially thought that she was angry at him for hurting another person she cares about and breaking his promise. But now here she was, keeping him to his feet when he's on the verge of falling. For that, he felt grateful.

It was the beginning of a friendship, and maybe even something more.

Kirihara shakes the thought off.

O o o

After minutes of contemplating, Atobe decides to verify his speculations.

He instructs his driver to park somewhere else, and puts on his shades and steps outside.

He is about to approach the junior ace when An exits the gates and comes into view.

"Yo, Tachibana's little sister."

An tries to hide her smile by snapping at him. _Check_.

"What are you doing here?"

Kirihara puts his arms behind his head casually and closes his eyes.

"Nothing, really."

An folds her arms and teases him.

"Don't tell me you fell asleep on the bus again, you brat."

"Hey! I'm not a brat anymore!"

"See? You're whining, Akaya-_chan_." _Check_.

An's light-hearted chuckle reaches Atobe's ears, and for once, the king admits his defeat.

_Checkmate._


	3. Mistakes

_Written for the NXYZ Community'sForum Anniversary Event_

_Writers: **meccanico**, thesaddisttensaifuji,__The Jabberer__(bolded author took part in writing this particular chapter.)_

_Prompt: Sunglasses (which will show up a few chapters in, we swear)_

_Disclaimer: We don't own Prince of Tennis._

* * *

><p>The third time in which Atobe thought he fell in love ended as a mistake.<p>

He was nineteen, if he could recall correctly. He was alone in a sense people never really saw. Sure, there were people around him, a lot, actually, but it was never quite the same. Not really.

It's just a price, he thinks. And thinks hard, as if it was the only thing he could ever hold onto. He'll be fine. He'll survive. Living might be a stretch, but existing... well, he was definitely doing that.

Atobe hates the city. It's cold, and everyone thinks they know him inside out. Perhaps it was that mystery about him that made him so very exciting to other people. Oh, he's the rich boy! Oh, he's got the highest score in our last German test! Oh, isn't he so handsome?

Those thoughts bring a smirk to his face, and he imagines people from years ago who would say those words in a mocking tone. And yet, he would laugh. Never normally, but he would laugh, that was the important thing.

The air is just as bitter, and just as cold, and just like many ordinary people, he wished that it could be warmer. A bit of a stretch, since they were in mid December during one of the worst winters the country had ever faced, but it was just a harmless thought.

He looks at the condensation forming on the coffee shop's windows, and lazily stares at the people passing by. Always a blur, and never anything special. The sky was dark since it was already past six, and traffic lights worked with street décor to provide lamination, not that the stores didn't do any work.

Atobe thanked the woman who placed his gingerbread coffee-to-go on the small table, wrapped his expensive scarf around his neck tighter, and wished he would have brought a hat with him, but nevertheless went to grab his coffee to leave the shop. It was too loud and too crowded, with people coming in to grab coffee and sit in the warm establishment.

* * *

><p>He met a stranger in a park not far from his apartment that was at the edge of the commoner's parts of the city. It was difficult to tell if he was a girl, or a boy, with his fair complexion and his petite build. But Atobe was pretty sure he was a guy. He looked young. But there was nothing about him that made him special from the crowd.<p>

It's late April, and the weather is light like candyfloss. The trees sang songs unheard of, and the sun is lazy, like the whole atmosphere. But still, Atobe likes it more than winter. Did then, and will still do in the future.

"Hey," the boy called out to him. "You forgot this piece of paper. I think it flew away from where you were sitting before, at that bench," he said, and anything else he rambles on about goes through his brain and never registers.

He took the sheet of paper. It has part of his notes for his next assignment. Important, but that important enough to the point he would fail it without it.

He thanked the kid anyway.

It sort of drifted from there. The kid would talk, introduce himself, and talk to Atobe about personal moments in his life like his mother had never taught him that talking to strangers was bad. He had a somewhat child like charm, even though he said he was seventeen, first year in the same university he's attending.

But Atobe doesn't care. It's not so bad, company. Sometimes he snaps and tells the kid to shut up, or gives a snaky remark here and there, but the kid doesn't mind and the kid doesn't care about who Atobe is, his name, his apparent wealth, his talents, his looks, nothing.

Atobe is just another person in his eyes, and that's what Atobe probably liked.

* * *

><p>His second mother stripped him from most of his wealth, after his father's business was hitting the sea beds. Atobe didn't really care at first, then he grew to realise how much he depended on money, specially after junior high graduation and the eventual separation. It was then did he also realise that he held onto a silly, childhood fabrication of a dream – to never grow up.<p>

He threw that away as soon as he realised it was in his hands.

The apartment is big and spacious. His second mother calls every major public holiday until they both grow tied of trying and failing. His father picked the business back up, but seemed to forget about his son until there were moments where he was needed.

Atobe wasn't angry. Bitter, maybe, but not angry. Anger was a useless emotion.

* * *

><p>The boy's name is Oliver, a name that's so common Atobe thought he could easily forget it. But he didn't. Even after months of random contact, Oliver never comments on Atobe's life. Atobe could still tell that the kid was just pretending – he knew who he was, but decided not to say anything.<p>

It is the end of July. Summer's here aren't as hot as summers there. Oliver stays over since the first person he calls is him, and he is drunk beyond compare and somehow, they are friends, and somehow, Atobe feels the need to let him stay over at his place.

The morning after, it is Atobe who throws pills and water for Oliver to catch (he didn't) while he drunk his black coffee and took out his laptop to work. Oliver smiles but Atobe pretends he doesn't see that.

They're friends, in a way.

* * *

><p>"You know who I am, don't you?" Atobe asks, and Oliver smiles. The kid smiles a lot, actually.<p>

"I do, in fact. You're Keigo Atobe, son of some big Japanese Company." He nods to himself like some form of self-praise. "I'm not that interested in companies and all that, but I hear things from some of the other students. You're pretty famous."

"Then, why are you here?" Atobe asks again, while he sipped from his glass of vintage red wine. He suddenly felt uncomfortable in his lavish apartment, sitting in front of an average kid, with looks that deceived the ordinary eye.

"I like you. You're different."

Atobe laughs. "Of course I'm different! Who do you think I am?"

"Keigo Atobe, a man with a name I can't pronounce?" The boy laughed, and the man did too.

* * *

><p>Atobe doesn't go to Oliver's birthday meet up. Instead, he sends him a text and there's a small box that was mailed to the boy. Whether he received it or not, Atobe doesn't think it matters.<p>

It's 4 AM when Atobe gets a call. He almost blows his head off since he was cranky and tired and he just wanted to go to sleep and forget about work, forget about -

"Hey, Keigo, could I come to your place again? I'm sorry."

Atobe doesn't think he can refuse.

* * *

><p>Oliver is a psychology student, which makes Atobe even more sure that he had a habit of not saying everything that's on his mind. He was like any other normal seventeen year old, only one with a bit more responsibility. He just worked hard, and played hard. He was slow in the morning. He liked listening to music while working. He loved sweet desserts. He was fairly sporty (but not as good as Atobe was at tennis). He had a fixation with sunglasses to the point he wore them indoors sometimes. He was incredibly lively and hyper, and people in his life rarely looked past that.<p>

Atobe knew a lot about him, but that didn't stop him feeling that they were miles away.

It was Oliver who kissed him and it was Atobe who didn't refuse.

Atobe felt cruel, but he didn't stop.

He never stops. No, not really.

* * *

><p>They shared a casual relationship. Oliver practically lived in Atobe's apartment and they went to school together, but they never said a thing about their relationship (Oliver knew more about Atobe than Atobe first thought) and then, he simply let those days go by, but, but -<p>

Something was _wrong_. Something was _missing_. Something wasn't right.

* * *

><p>"Are you going to leave me?" Oliver asks, and his voice sounds like it's going to break, and Oliver doesn't hide his emotions like he usually does. (Atobe doesn't count the times when he's overly joyous and hyper.)<p>

Atobe's in the bathroom, and even though Oliver probably didn't intend for him to hear that, so when he's finished he doesn't say anything, but Atobe's sure he knows he'd heard his words.

Atobe lets him wrap his arms around his body, and his sleeping face reminds him of memories. Of places that he once visited, of places he once belonged, of people, of 'maybes' and 'somehows' and it almost makes him cry. (No, Atobe doesn't cry.)

* * *

><p>"We could have had it all," Oliver's crying. "I loved you."<p>

"I never did."

Atobe doesn't apologise, even though there are a million words he wants to say, but they don't come out. He will forever be a selfish bastard, an arrogant fool. He will always be the naïve boy who was more sensitive than you could notice by the average eye.

Atobe just made a mistake. Atobe just got mixed up.

Atobe was only human.


End file.
